


Mad Woman

by orphan_account



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Jealousy, Love, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28543284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Beca and Chloe: established relationship and getting into an argument over something not too serious, but enough to fight and bring up all their old communication issues.
Relationships: Chloe Beale & Beca Mitchell, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 4
Kudos: 85





	Mad Woman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iPhone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPhone/gifts).



The wheels of a black Audi slow to a stop as the beaming yellow light blinks into red at the intersection.

Beca Mitchell’s left hand grips tighter to the heated wheel in its clutch, arching her shoulders back as she sits up taller in the driver’s seat. She inhales sharply, holding the breath a measured 3 seconds before exhaling slowly through her nose. Her eyes dart away from the endless, empty stretch of road in front of her to steal a glance at her wife sitting next to her in the seat.

She can’t see Chloe’s face. Can only see the intricate twists that spiraled together to form the neatly styled updo. The way Chloe’s shoulders twist away from her, as though making a point to turn her back to Beca.

The overdramatic nature of it all causes Beca to roll her eyes as a humored scoff escapes her lips. She turns her gaze back to the road in front of her. Shaking her head in annoyance, unable to fight the smile trying to play at her lips all the same.

Their entire argument from just minutes ago that prompted them to leave the album release party early, playing out like a comedy of errors in her mind.

“Babe—no offense—but you are being— _ridiculous_ about this whole thing—“

Beca can’t help the chuckle that escapes her as the last word escapes her lips.

And it’s the wrong thing to do—the _wrong, mother fucking thing to do_ —because it prompts Chloe’s head to spin around, showcasing a pair of harshly narrowed eyes and brilliantly flushed cheeks.

“Ridiculous? _I’m_ the one being ridiculous?”

Chloe presses forward, leaning over the center console, causing Beca to withdraw, eyes wide, as she anchors herself back against the car door.

“ _You_ are the ridiculous one! I can’t believe you would say that! I can’t believe you would say what you did about the Bellas!”

The light turns green, but the Audi doesn’t move. Beca’s eyes twist up in confusion, mouth falling partially agape in rebuttal.

“What are you talking about? When did I even say _anything_ about the Bellas—“

Chloe scoffs venomously, jolting back against the passenger’s seat as she crosses her arms in front of her and shakes her head. Staring out at the endless stretch of road and blinking slowly.

“Can we just— _please_ , get home—“

The annoyance of the situation causes Beca to run her hand in nervous fashion through her hair, as she exhales dramatically once again, pushing the gas pedal, and replaying the events of the night in her head—wracking her brain for whatever the hell Chloe had meant.

**

The night had been so perfect. Bottles of champagne overflowing with bubbles. Waiters passing around golden caviar on crostini. Her wife of two years, Chloe, by her side, hand in hand and connected everywhere they walked. The album her label was promoting set to be an instant top 40 hit.

Then they saw her—

More like Beca turned around and her eyes had to scale at least a foot before actually recognizing who it was.

“Hello, little mouse.”

Beca’s face immediately contorted into a look of confusion—unsure of whether she should feel insulted or flattered.

That night after world’s— _that night_ in Copenhagen after she and Jesse had broken up—again—that night with Kommissar in the hotel room flooding her memory, causing a sudden flush in her cheeks as she takes in the woman in front of her.

“Hello.“

Her tone escapes with surprise, eyes dropping to the sudden squeeze of her hand before flicking up to see her wife stepping in closer to her, leaning her body into Beca’s possessively. Chloe’s brilliant blue eyes slightly narrowed as though not even bothering to hide the territorial way they stand protective watch over Beca as they stare at the threat in front of her.

An awkward silence fills the space between the three women, an uncomfortable smile fluttering across Beca’s lips as she glances between Kommissar and the unwavering, hostile gaze Chloe gives her.

Beca inhales sharply.

“So, Kommissar—how are you? What’re you doing here?”

“Oh, just doing this industry thing. Das Sound Machine was able to make a record, and we’re putting out another album soon.”

Beca feels Chloe stand up taller next to her. Taking in the way the redhead has shifted her eyes away as though she was bored with the conversation—knowing that Chloe was purposely trying to show how unimpressed she was, and finding a slight tug on the corner of her lips as she fights off the smirk at the thought that, even though she had absolutely no reason to be, no reason whatsoever, her wife and the love of her life, wasn’t even bothering to hide her jealousy. Beca’s tone is polite, but detached.

“That’s great, Kommissar. I’m really excited for you. You all were fantastic at worlds.”

The tall blonde woman stares at her, eyebrow quirking as she lets loose a chuckle that causes Chloe’s head to twist back around and stare at her.

“Not as good as you.”

Chloe’s eyes bore daggers into the woman before they flutter over and take in the pursed lips on Beca’s face as her wife glances up at her.

Because Chloe _knows_ what that bitch meant by it. Knows that Kommissar isn’t referring to the performance on stage. Knows that she’s referring to the fact she got to fuck Beca in room 1214 of the Hotel D'Angleterre after the world championships. Knows Kommissar can palpably feel her jealousy over it, by the way her eyebrow lifts in smug fashion as she meets Chloe’s eyes.

Which is precisely why Chloe’s eyes narrow back at the taller woman as a smug smile finds its way across her lips.

“She’s being modest. We were always better than you.”

Beca shrugs her shoulders, eyes falling on the floor in recollection of a memory that crosses her mind. Tone still nonchalant.

“I mean they did beat us in the riff-off—“

She means nothing by it. Means to bring honesty to the situation. But intentions do not always equal outcomes.

And the outcome of this—is that Beca immediately knows it was the wrong thing to say as she meets Chloe’s gaze before the redhead snaps her head back towards Kommissar. And Chloe can’t help the green flame that roils through her as she takes in the amused way Kommissar holds her glass of champagne to her lips, humored eyes peeking out from over it as they flutter between Beca and Chloe. And just the sight of it makes Chloe want to throw her own glass of champagne in the woman’s face.

“Best of luck with the career, Kommissar. Hope it really takes off with the _second_ album.”

She tugs at Beca’s hand in her own, tugging her wife’s hand in the opposite direction, feeling some comfort in the way Beca instinctively follows wherever she goes even without knowing where that might be.

**

Chloe stares out of the windshield of the car, watching the endless stretch of road in front of her as sky scrapers and brilliant lights blare past them as her wife drives them towards their home on the upper east side of town. Something catches the corner of her eye. Her eyes glancing down to the center console where Beca has rested her right hand, palm up, as she always did when she wanted Chloe to take it in her own and never let it go. And without a second thought, she reaches out her own hand, fingers folding in like the missing puzzles pieces of Beca’s own.

“I should have never said that about the Bellas—I should have never thrown any doubt on them. Or ever insinuated that Das Sound Machine was better—“

Chloe closes her eyes, unable to help the laugh that escapes her lips as she embraces how ridiculous her entire fit had been.

“I was jealous, Beca—“

She glances over at the brunette, a smirk on her own lips as she takes in the calm smile finding its way upon Beca’s own.

“I know. But still—”

A comfortable silence settles between the two lovers as they roll down the street before Beca gives Chloe’s hand another squeeze as her dark blue eyes gaze at the apology in Chloe’s own. Beca finds a smirk play on the corner of her lips.

“Thank you for loving me enough to be jealous—“

Chloe can’t help the snort of laughter expel from her lips as she shakes her head. Knowing Beca was milking this for all its ridiculous worth, and finally exhaling as she leans over the console to press a lingering kiss and rest her head against her wife’s shoulder.


End file.
